Not So Bad I guess
by Scooter12345
Summary: Due to the alarming lack of Scruple and Gargamel stories on FF. . . Scruple is stuck with Gargamel after his first attempt at failing to get back into Wizard School. He realizes maybe staying with the old wizard might not be so bad after all. No slash. No AU. On hiatus until the end of my semester.
1. An Aweful Night

**I've always wanted to try this. Let's see how OOC Gargy is.**

Scruple woke up after a particularly terrifying nightmare. He went into the kitchen quiet as a mouse his tiny hands were still shaking. His whole body was shaking.

He just wanted some hot chocolate. That was all he wanted and then he'd go back to bed. Gargamel only had coco powder in the winter. He never used it only Scruple did when he was too terrified to think of anything else.

He wiped a few tears that lingered in his eyes. He was still reeling and frightened from the dream.

The house, his house, had been on fire. His mother curled in the corner burning. He was trying to get out smoke filling his lungs. He was screaming. He could see his old professor and the boys from the boarding school laughing at him.

He wished sometimes he'd been able to ignore them. He wished life would work for him once. He knew it would never happen. His father had left him and his mother was dead. Everyone who had ever said anything about him was right, he was a failure.

He'd been lost in his thoughts and didn't realize he was shaking so badly he'd dropped the mug he was holding. It shattered loudly. He gasped and began to try and cover for his mistake. He felt pain in his hand but he didn't care. He kept picking up the pieces.

"Scruple?" Gargamel asked lighting a candle despite the full moon. "What on . . . you're bleeding," Gargamel stated.

"'S nothing. 'm sorry I woke you." Scruple said throwing the pieces of mug away.

"Why were you up in the first place?" Gargamel asked inspecting the cut. "Wash your hand."

Scruple rolled his eyes, but he did so. He winced when Gargamel forced soap into his hand.

"I did not say _rinse_ your hand. I told you to _wash _it. You still didn't tell me why you were up."

"I wasn't tired." Scruple muttered under his breath. That was untrue he was exhausted.

"Ah yes, and your slow sluggish body movements definitely prove that." Gargamel said.

"So, yes, I'm tired, but I just didn't want to fall asleep."

"So you decided to break mugs in my kitchen?"

"No, I . . . I was going to make myself hot chocolate since you never use the powder I figured I wasn't going to let it go to waste."

Gargamel sized him up. The only time he ever used that was when he was scared or nervous about something. He occasionally used it when he was upset.

Scruple's face was sort of flushed and in the moonlight he looked rather pale.

"Come here," Gargamel said gruffly.

Scruple obeyed. To the child's surprise, Gargamel's touch was gentle against his forehead.

"You're running a fever," Gargamel said more to himself than to Scruple who was already swaying violently on his feet. He steadied the child who seemed to collapse into him from exhaustion.

Gargamel grabbed the child a bit brusquely, but set him down carefully in the rocking chair with a pillow.

Scruple's eyes were closed gently as he rested. Gargamel dabbed the child's forehead with cool water.

"Stubborn," Gargamel smiled to himself. "Just like I was."

Azreal purred and climbed into Scruple's warm lap. Gargamel started the tea kettle and tended to Scruple with more tenderness than he would care to show if the child woke.

He kept one cup empty for Scruple if he woke. The other he used to make tea for himself.

Scruple smiled in his sleep. Gargamel replaced the rag every hour. He would fall asleep next to his apprentice for a few minutes and then wake and remove the cloth.

Scruple seemed fine until he woke thrashing around one in the morning.

"What is it my boy?" Gargamel asked lifting the boy carefully from the chair. He stroked back the boy's fever soaked hair.

Scruple said nothing. He couldn't. Gargamel held the shaking child and set him back on the chair with a warm blanket around his shoulders. He rocked Scruple back into a fitful sleep.

"No . . . please . . . not again . . ." Scruple thrashed. "Gargamel! No . . . please . . . no, _no, __**NO!**_ I'm not going back with you." He screamed.

"Shh . . . I'm right here my boy." Gargamel said with a small smile. He pushed back Scruple's bangs. "I'm right here I'm not going anywhere soon."

It was late in the day when Scruple realized he was on the rocking chair with Gargamel's arms wrapped around him. The wizard was awake and he was smiling. Scruple had never really seen Gargamel smile, at least not kindly before.

"Good morning," Gargamel said. He reheated the water from last night and poured Scruple a cup of coco. "Let's just sleep for today hm?" He asked.

Scruple smiled as he sipped his coco maybe . . . just maybe staying with Gargamel wouldn't be so bad after all.


	2. A Worse Morning and a Secret Revealed

**Random Junk 13 (unsigned) and EmmiBrook requested that I continue this story. It was originally designed as a one-shot but they fed my plot bunny with encouragement and it grew. **

**Thank you to my other 3 reviewers as well: AnimationNut, Kastella, FrittzyCrazy and**

**I hope that you enjoy the continuing of this little plot bunny.**

Gargamel's POV:

I finally went into his room later in the afternoon. He is asleep, soundly. He is still sweating and shivering a little.

I'm sort of surprising myself honestly.

I rarely could take care of myself much less another human being who is smaller, younger and more breakable than me.

He was moving so slowly last night. That was when I first thought he might be sick. Now, I have no doubts.

He'd managed about half of the hot chocolate which, for him, is unusual. We certainly don't eat like kings so anything we had was usually a feast for us. It might have been too heavy for him. I wondered this briefly.

He looked so small. I'd never realized before, but, he's actually rather tiny. He reminds me almost of one of those small toys young girls play with. They cradle them and . . . blech . . . it's just disgusting.

His breathing is even which is a good sign. He hasn't complained which, again, is unusual for him. So, if he has a headache or doesn't feel well I don't know.

He really is warm though. I decided I should probably try and cool him down. I washed his face with a cool cloth and laid it over his forehead.

I wanted to wake him and ask him if anything hurt, but, unlike last night, he was peaceful. So, I didn't want to wake him.

His eyes flutter a little and it's in that moment I realized I was holding his hand. Why on earth was I stooping to the level of showing affection? I. . . I was . . . I am a bad guy. I'm a villain not some kind of parent!

He smiles weakly at me.

Why did I feel the urge somewhere inside me to hold him or to simply brush back his hair with my hand? If this is love, love is annoying. I don't know how those Smurfs stand it, how they can stand taking care of one another.

He grimaces and that brings me back to reality. He tries to cover but I can tell. He holds back a few harsh coughs.

"You know there's no need to pretend," I hear myself say a bit harshly.

The boy reaches for my hand which I'd pulled away. I rather unwillingly allow him to hold it. He seems to be in quite a bit of pain now.

"Scruple?" I ask, "Where does it hurt child?"

I've given into my 'parental' urges. I push back his sweat soaked hair and gently lay my hand against his forehead. It's no wonder the child is upset he's burning.

"My stomach," the kid mutters through clenched teeth.

That would explain his lack of appetite. I try to soothe him.

"You didn't even want me why are you doing this?"

I was kind of taken aback but not really. I knew that question was coming sooner or later because I asked myself that not too long ago.

Did I hate him? No.

Did I like him? Maybe.

Could I tolerate him? Yes.

Did I care for him?

Indefinitely. . .

Was that love? I wasn't sure and I'm still uncertain.

"Because you're useful," I admit roughly. Why was I so bad at saying what I really felt? Oh yeah because I'm "the bad guy".

He pitches forward and starts to look like he might be sick. I grab an empty basin and he's sick immediately.

I find myself rubbing circles on his back and whispering, "It's okay. It'll pass. Let nature run its course," over and over. He's crying a little and even though I'm slightly disgusted (okay maybe extremely) I take the basin from his lap and smooth back his red hair.

He really looks sick. That's when I notice something's off about him. His chest is pulling in and out.

"Scruple? Scruple, my boy, sit up. Sit up. That's it my boy deep breaths." I'm holding him upright trying to help him breathe.

He's clinging to me. He buries his freckled cheeks into my shoulder struggling to take in air.

. . .

"Should have done this a long time ago," Professor Mordor cackled. "It would have saved me, and the world, two large pains in the butt." He laughed.

. . .

**Because this story has been continued I might change the idea to being slightly AU. **


End file.
